


Of Wolves & Friends

by rachelrose



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, F/M, Original Character-centric, POV Third Person, Present Tense, Return, Roof Sex, Sexual Content, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-01
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 02:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1880853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelrose/pseuds/rachelrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before she has time to register her surroundings, Alex ends up in front of a house she knows all too well. The walkway and the steps that lead to the porch are irrationally intimidating, she reasons. <i>Just do it. What is there to be afraid of, really?</i> As soon as she sets foot on the walkway, there is a full-blown mental debate raging in her head in which she has no say.</p><p>
  <i>"What have you got to give?" asks Despair.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"What have you got to lose?" asks Adventure.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"You're joking if you think you can fix things now," cries Guilt. Doubt nods in agreement.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"It's a Saturday morning in the middle of Spring – he could still be asleep. He may not even answer," reasons Logic.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"You need this," remarks Loneliness. "You need this more than you'll ever know."</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"In all honesty," says Reason, "it can't really get any worse."</i>
</p><p>This is a gift fic for a friend of mine. Happy birthday – I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Return of an Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [a very good friend of mine](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=a+very+good+friend+of+mine).



> This was originally written as a birthday gift fic for a very good friend of mine. There are four chapters in total. Enjoy!

_Okay, house key – check. Phone – check. Bag – check. Sunglasses – check. Overwhelming combination of anxiety, nostalgia, and a sense of impeding doom – check._

Even though this is familiar territory for her, Alex's footing is unsure and hesitant as she makes her way through the back roads of Beacon Hills. She busies her mind, revisiting the few remaining memories she has of this place that still appear in full clarity. She's good with things like this – daydreaming, envisioning, seeing without looking.

She's also good at panicking, over-thinking, and she has quite a knack for humoring the ridiculous fears that she's carried along with her since childhood (and quite frankly, she'll probably end up taking them with her to the grave). Her memories, her sense of empathy, and her emotions are bound together to make up her shadow, haunting her every waking moment – no, not every waking moment; that would be too kind. Because it's always, _always_ there, even in her dreams.

But we all have our faults, don't we?

Before she has time to register her surroundings, Alex ends up in front of a house she knows all too well. The walkway and the steps that lead to the porch are irrationally intimidating, she reasons. _Just do it. What is there to be afraid of, really?_ As soon as she sets foot on the walkway, there is a full-blown mental debate raging in her head in which she has no say.

_"What have you got to give?" asks Despair._

_"What have you got to lose?" asks Adventure._

_"You're joking if you think you can fix things now," cries Guilt. Doubt nods in agreement._

_"It's a Saturday morning in the middle of Spring – he could still be asleep. He may not even answer," reasons Logic._

_"You need this," remarks Loneliness. "You need this more than you'll ever know."_

_"In all honesty," says Reason, "it can't really get any worse."_

Reason wins for once.

Approaching the door, Alex takes a breath to steel herself. She knocks three times, unwilling to admit to herself that she's hoping that no one answers. The guy who answers the door with an air of nonchalance about him completely loses his composure the instant he sees the person standing in front of him. His eyes go wide in realization, and for a few moments, he says absolutely nothing. _Have I broken him?_

“.....You've _got_ to be kidding me right now.” He stands up a little straighter and takes a hard swallow, his stare flickering over Alex's figure with an uncomfortable intensity. He hesitates for a few moments before asking, “Al?” The question is quiet, and a bit hopeful as well.

“I missed you too, Stiles.” A bittersweet, remorseful smile breaks on her face, but he doesn't respond in kind.

“Are you...what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you know, I came back for the N64 controller that I lent you,” she quips, hoping that good old-fashioned nostalgic sarcasm might break the tension.

He frowns dramatically. “...that you lent me 8 years ago.”

“You've been counting?” She means it to be a joke.

He's far too serious when he replies, “You haven't?” The resulting pause allows for the guilt to sink into the pit of Alex's stomach, as if the weight there wasn't enough already.

“I just, uh..." She stops, second-guessing Reason's comment. _It_ can _get worse, apparently._ "I wanted to know if, uh – if maybe you'd like to...” She pauses to take a breath, starting over. Her stuttering causes Stiles to smirk just the tiniest bit, but it's enough to fuel her confidence. "I was hoping we could, like, go to the diner or something. I haven't been there in years."

Stiles pauses to consider this for a moment. "You know, as much as things have changed around here, that place hasn't changed at all."

"Is the coffee still shit?" she asks.

"Uh, _yeah_. Duh – of course it is. But that never stopped you anyway."

"Coffee is coffee, no matter how bad it is." There's an awkward pause before Alex clears her throat and asks, "So, uh, what do you say?"

Stiles smirks, shaking his head. "Fine, fine – I'll go with you. We can take the Jeep." He stops for a second to think. He asks, "Uh, can I, like, put some pants on first?” He's in his batman pajama pants. _How cute._

"Of course."

"Great. You can, like, come in. If you want, I mean. So you don't have to wait outside."

"Sure, thanks." She flashes a big smile, but on the inside, she's nervous.

 

* * *

 

Alex paces a lot when left in situations like this one: left to her own devices in someone's living room, waiting for said someone to return. No one but Stiles is home. She walks around – slowly, aimlessly – with her arms doing something awkward behind her back. She looks at the fireplace, the walls, the wood floors, the rugs; it's all exactly the same as it was when she was a kid. Above the fireplace hangs a small collection of framed photographs, including snapshots from Stiles' parents' wedding day all the way up to last year's homecoming. _Oh my god, is that Lydia Martin?_

The three of them spent most of their time in Stiles' bedroom, but Alex doesn't think that she's ready for that yet.

"Sorry for the delay there," Stiles says as he thunders down the steps. He freezes at the sight of Alex's countenance as she regards the photographs on the wall. Her face is cold, pained – guilt-stricken, even. "Al, let's go."

 

* * *

 

"Awh, yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes-yes! I've been craving these for-fucking- _ever_ ," Alex exclaims, far too exited as the waitress approaches with their order.

The older woman puts a mug of coffee in front of each of them before placing a big, mouth-watering double order of curly fries in the middle of the table. Alex is aware that she probably looks like a savage, but she's waited years for this.

"I think I've died and gone to heaven," she mutters, and for a while, neither of them speak. Well, I mean, they kind of _couldn't_ with their mouths stuffed with food.

After a while, Stiles hesitantly asks, "Why didn't you go see Scott? Or invite him?"

"I wanted to, um, spend some time with you alone first. I hoped you'd come with me to see him. I didn't know how he'd react."

"Why'd you want to be alone with me?" he asks as if the notion is absurd.

She gives him a steady look. "You and I both know that, of the two of you, I was closer to you than I was to Scott. You can't even deny that."

He smiles down into his coffee. "Yeah, I guess."

Alex quickly changes the subject. "So what's new around here? What have I missed?"

Stiles exhales dramatically. "Hmm..." He tries to think of things that have happened that _aren't_ about the pack. "Well, uh... I mean, my mom's dead. That happened." Alex's heart drops into her stomach. "No, it's okay. Sort of. You know how I use humor in times of stress." He laughs.

"That I do, yeah." He grins at her, but she can't manage to smile back. _His mom? Momma Stilinski? The one who made ice cream sundaes and let us play video games until midnight? The one who helped me ambush Scott and Stiles with water balloons?_

"Really, Al, it's fine. It was a long time ago. I've gotten over it by now – for the most part." He sees the concern in her eyes and quickly shifts to something else. "Uh, Scott somehow managed to graduate from 8th grade. I never really thought he could do that." They share a laugh. "He and I made in onto the high school lacrosse team. Uh, there's a few new people in our group of friends, but that's irrelevant. Oh – I almost forgot! I went to prom last year with Lydia! It didn't end well, but that doesn't matter. She's still perfect. And still not giving me the time of day." Alex smiles for him, but it's fake. Stiles doesn't notice. "What about you? What's happened since you abandoned me and Scott?"

It hurts. "Uh, well – Mom's gone off the deep end. We had to have her admitted. That's why I'm back, actually – since Dad's gone, there was no one to take care of me, so I came to stay with my grandparents to finish high school. Mom is going to be flown to a hospital in Beacon Hills, though – so I'll still get to see her. I start at the high school next semester, which starts this Wednesday."

Stiles' tone is serious. "I'm really sorry that happened, Al. And I'm a bit ashamed to admit that I'm happy that you're back."

"I'm happy to be back, too." She hesitates before adding, "But I'm terrified of starting at a new school, as dumb as that sounds."

"No, no – I totally get it. It's not dumb. But you do know some people there at least. You'll be fine!"

"Everyone keeps saying that. _'You'll be fine.'_ I don't think I'm even capable of _'fine.'_ " _Over-sharing. Don't scare him off._ "I'm not really the kind of person that makes a lot of new friends, but it's okay."

"What's your class schedule?"

"Um, I have Economics, English, Calc Honors, Lunch, History and Chem Honors."

Stiles grins as he says, "That's crazy! We have Economics, English, and Chem together! And plus, you can totally sit with us at Lunch."

"Oh, is this the whole _'The greatest people you'll ever meet'_ thing?"

"This isn't _Mean Girls._ "

She bites off a laugh. "I can't believe you got that reference."

Stiles blushes. "Anyway, do you need a ride to school? I could totally pick you up."

"I think I'm taking the bus, actually. But would you mind maybe showing me around on the first day?"

"Yeah, no, of course – I could totally do that."

The plate in the middle of the table is empty to the point that they're racing each other for the crumbs. "I really need to see Scott."

 

* * *

 

"Please tell me she doesn't know. God, please say you didn't tell her."

"I didn't, Scott. I'm not an idiot. Chill."

The two are having a private conversation outside of Scott's bedroom, while Alex sits inside on the bed. She doesn't question their need for a privacy.

"Stiles, be serious. Should we... I mean, should we, like, tell her? It's like, all we talk about. I don't want me or anyone else to say something stupid by accident."

"She's already had a traumatic experience. I think the last thing she needs right now is to think she's losing it like her mom."

"So what do we do? Do we just... hang out I guess?"

"Well, she's starting school when the semester is over. She'll be busy. I'm sure she'll make friends too. I just... Scott," Stiles pleads, "I don't want her to be dragged into this circus shit-show that we see on a day-to-day basis. She's human. She's perfectly unbroken. I don't want her to get pulled in just to get hurt or bitten or killed. I don't want her to have to see the crazy, awful shit that happens. She doesn't deserve that burden."

"Yeah, but what happens when she gets attacked? Or – or what happens when she sees something she's not supposed to see? What then?" Scott sighs. "Dude, this town is literally crawling with werewolves. I know you don't want to bring her into this, but if she's hanging around for a while, it'd be for her benefit."

"I don't like this, Scott. What if she hates us or thinks we're freaks? What if she calls the cops or tries to have us admitted?"

"I can't believe that _I'm_ the one pointing out the obvious, but – dude, your dad is the police. My mom works at the hospital. We're good." Stiles sighs in relief. "We can wait a little while, but she's not safe if she's not in the loop."

Stiles moves to go back inside the room, but Scott stops him, gripping his bicep. "Is it really really bad that I think she's actually, like, really freaking gorgeous now?"

Stiles huffs impatiently. "She was before, too."

"Was she?"

"Don't try anything. We can't screw this up, Scott."

"I know, man. I know."

 


	2. Fresh Meat

_Are you fucking kidding me? Do I have "FRESH MEAT" written on my back in bold print? No, I don't. But apparently, everyone can tell that I'm new. The school's not that small; it's not like I stick out like a sore thumb – do I?_

Alex made it to her first class without Stiles' help. Not that she could've had Stiles' help – he didn't even show up.

As the bell rings, the teacher – _Finnstock, was it? –_ slams the door and shouts, "Alright everybody, sit down." Alex quickly realizes that he's not actually yelling – that's just how he talks, apparently. Clipboard in hand, he begins scanning the room using a pen to count the students. He squints down at the attendance sheet, seeing a note that he missed before. "It seems... we have a new student, everyone." He looks to her and asks, "Alexandra, is it?"

In a little voice, she replies, "Alex is fine."

"Alright everyone give a warm welcome to the new girl – Alex."

 _No. Stop. What are they all doing? Stop looking at me! Ewh, who are you? Why are you trying to have eye sex with me? No bueno. Seriously no bueno._ In that very moment, like a knight in shining armor, Stiles comes stumbling into the room, clothes all disheveled, backpack halfway down his arm. He pants obscenely, not caring in the least when everyone's attention turns to him. _Thank god._

"Sorry I'm late, coach."

"What, no convoluted excuse this time? You know, one more lateness and you're looking at a lacrosse suspension."

"I know, Coach. It was because Scott was running late."

"Good enough for me. Have a seat, Stilinski."

Stiles sighs in relief, very grateful that Coach decided to let this one slide. Stiles takes a seat next to Alex and mutters, "Sorry I flaked. Scott was being an ass."

"Stilinksi! Surely you can wait to fawn over the pretty new girl until lunch like everybody else?"

Stiles maintains eye contact with Alex and smirks. "Sure thing, Coach." _I was expecting a dramatic huff and a sarcastic quip._

 

* * *

 

"How was English?"

"Uneventful. I think I've read _Of Mice & Men _at least four times in school by now." Stiles and Alex walk side-by-side to lunch. Today, the gang is sitting outside. "So I wasn't going to say anything, but why is everyone, like, staring at me?"

Stiles laughs, dropping and shaking his head. When he looks back up at her, he bites his lip. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"Have I missed something?"

"This town is small, Al. Stunning new girl strides in – everyone's gonna notice."

"Me? Really?"

He laughs again. "It's almost like girls are treated like goddesses here. By the guys, at least. You're untouchable – everyone wants to know your story."

She pauses. "…Well that's annoying."

 

* * *

 

Lunch is awkward at first. It seems like everyone's avoiding speaking with her.

Of course, Lydia is the one to finally break the ice. "Okay, I don't get it." Everyone looks at her questioningly. "Oh, come on. There has to be something wrong with her!" The questioning looks continue. "She can't be _this_ normal."

"Contrary to popular belief, Lydia, I am capable of having 'normal' friends."

"Not really."

"Thank you for your input, Isaac. Very helpful, per usual."

"Okay, just stop, guys." Scott intervenes. "She's my friend too. And yes, Lydia, she's actually pretty normal."

"Define 'normal,'" Alex remarks. The people at the table exchange looks.

Isaac nods. "Normal, yeah. Definitely normal."

 

* * *

 

"I just mean – you shouldn't let him talk to you like that."

"I can handle myself, Stiles."

In Chem, Alex was paired up with some douchebag from the lacrosse team. He flirted with her the whole time. Stiles didn't approve. "I don't feel comfortable with that."

Alex giggles and says sarcastically, "Okay, Dad, I'll be sure to put him in his place."

Stiles is walking Alex home from school, at his insistence, of course. "Wanna come hang out at Scott's later, just the three of us? On Fridays, we always do pizza and movies and video games."

"Sure," she says, smiling.

"Really?" Stiles asks before he has the chance to think. "I mean, uh – I'll pick you up around 8?"

"I look forward to it." With that, they part ways, and Alex takes the walkway up to her front door.

 

* * *

 

"Listen to me. We _cannot_ screw this up, understood?" Scott nods. "Tonight, we do the normal thing. Just friends hanging out, sans the werewolfy-supernatural bullshit. Then, if we feel she can handle it, we tell her next time. When shit hits the fan, it should just be you and me."

"It'll be fine, dude. Don't worry so much."

"You know that's easier said than done for me." He pauses for a moment before adding, "Oh, and if you hit on her, I swear on all that is fucking holy –"

Scott gives him a level look. "You don't have to play big brother. I know you, like, _love_ her."

Stiles huffs, pouting. "I... I do not' _love_ her.' That's ridiculous."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dude."

"See, that's the thing. I don't sleep at night."

 

* * *

 

"This is what we get for letting Al pick the movie," Stiles grumbles, massaging his forehead.

"But come on dude – I mean, I really didn't expect this movie to be so good." Scott is enthralled with the animation on the screen.

Alex grins. "Oh, _Stiles –_ if you let go of your cynicism for like _one freaking minute_ , I swear you'll fall in love."

They asked Al to pick a movie for them to watch.

She brought _Frozen._

"I don't know what you're complaining about, Stiles," says Scott. Stiles just sighs in response.

After the movie, they order pizza. When it arrives, they sit in a circle around the box, recounting memories from when they were younger. At a lull in the conversation, Alex speaks up.

"So do either of you guys know of a Dr. Deaton?"


	3. They've Broken Me

"You guys can come on back," Deaton calls from the doorway to his examination room/werewolf ICU. With a pained smile on his face, the vet gestures toward the open doorway. When everyone is inside, Deaton locks the door. "So, who would like to explain to me the nature of this visit?" Deaton looks over the three of them, noting their tense body language.

Alex speaks up first. "Uh, well you see, a little birdie told me to come find a Dr. Deaton upon my return to Beacon Hills. I must admit, I was expecting more of a – well... a medical doctor." Deaton gives her a knowing smirk.

"Uh – um," Stiles starts forward, a frantic expression on his face as he cuts off Deaton's reply. Alex notices that the fear on his face is reflected on Scott's as well. "Okay, wait, back up a few steps – I think this calls for a quick backstory: this is Alex. She was our, like, uh – I guess you could say she was our childhood best friend. She ditched us when we were like eight or nine years-old, _without so much as a fucking phone call saying goodbye..._ " Stiles grumbles, directing his anger at Alex before returning to his train of thought. "Some... _unfortunate_ events have led her back here to live with her grandparents."

Alex interjects, "I don't mind if you say it, Stiles. Not talking about it won't do us any good." With an air of shaky but steadfast confidence about her, she says directly to Deaton, "My mom was institutionalized about a month ago – for what, the doctors aren't sure."

Scott says, "God, her chocolate chip cookies could drive anyone insane. Maybe she finally succumbed to the temptation." Alex's wide grin is a tad unsettling, and Deaton's face is blank. Stiles' grimace looks seriously uncomfortable. "… too soon?" His comment earns a round of laughter.

"Wow, Scott," Stiles says sarcastically. "'Succumbed.' That's a pretty big word for you, dude."

Scott's smile is proud. "I know."

"Let's not get side-tracked here," Deaton says in reminder.

"Right, okay," Alex says, taking a deep breath. "She was depressed for years, but one evening, she just snapped. She was terrified of everything, clawing at her own skin. I thought she might've taken something or had too much to drink, or was maybe feeling the adverse effects of narcotics mixed with alcohol or something. I stayed up with her, and by around 3 AM or so, she seemed to have calmed down. Fifteen minutes later, she tried to kill herself."

The impact of Alex's words hits everyone square in the chest – even Deaton. Feet shift nervously and eyebrows furrow in confusion, Tears start to well up in Alex's eyes, and her face turns red, but she doesn't cry. She doesn't let the tears go. Someone brings her a chair, which she gladly accepts. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. _First day back – nope. Definitely not crying on my first day back. I'm not going to be the damsel in distress. No way._ Deaton places a comforting grip on her upper arm, bending down to be eye-level with her. His presence is miraculously calming for her.

"Alex, what exactly brought you here – to me, in particular?"

"My, uh," The threat of tears is relentless, and her voice is unsteady. "My mom. In the hospital, after a few days under sedation, I got to talk to her. She spoke nonsense, but she knew who I was, and she seemed to be aware of her corrupt state of mind – which, you may know, rules out psychosis, schizophrenia, dissociative disorders, or other delusional conditions."

Alex remembers the conversation with her mother all too well.

_"They've broken me, Allie. They've broken me, for good this time. I'm sorry, God, I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I won't be able to communicate much longer, I know, but I knew it would get to me eventually. I just, I..."_

_"Mom, it's okay," Alex cooed, gripping her mother's hand tightly in hers._

_Her mother's tone suddenly grew dark and serious, and Alex wondered if she was having another episode. "Allie, I need you to listen to me. I really need you to listen to me. No one has been listening to me, and I... and no one takes me seriously now, but I –"_

_"I'm listening. I promise, Mom, I'm listening."_

_"I trust you. I'm gone now, but I trust you." She gave her daughter a soft, honest smile. "They told me that you're being sent to Grandma and Grandpa's house, right?" Alex nodded. "There's a good hospital nearby, I think they're sending me there to be near you, to be near them. I asked, at least. Anyway, back home – back where we used to live..." her mother's eyes were suddenly distant, her grip lax then nonexistent, her smile completely faded away. Nurses bustled in right away, taking vitals and looking panicked, but nobody asked Alex to leave. Maybe they knew it could help to calm her mother down._

_After minutes of witnessing her mother in a catatonic state, Alex began to cry. She cried and cried until she heard a small voice. They'd given her mother a sedative, as counter-intuitive as that may seem, but it helped in the end, strangely enough. Her mother's eyes fluttered open, and she smiled a groggy smile. "Dr. Deaton. He'll tell you. In Beacon Hills. Dr. Deaton." With that, her mother fell back asleep._

"She said you'd tell me. I know it sounds crazy, but I promised that I'd listen to her and try to take her seriously. I thought it was worth a shot, looking for you."

Deaton nods, turning and pacing the length of the room. "What _exactly_ are you looking for? What kind of information are you hoping to get from me?"

"I... I don't know, to be honest. I followed my gut and came to you, hoping I'd know when the time came. I'm sorry, I just don't know."

"So she knows nothing." Deaton says to the boys. It's a statement, not a question.

"Well, I know that you guys are keeping something from me – something big, I'm guessing. I'm really out of the loop. God, I've missed a lot, haven't I?"

A figurative light flashes in Deaton's eyes. "Your mother – what was your mother's name? Her full name?"

"Grace Elwyn."

Deaton freezes. "Can I speak to you two boys in the other room please?" They follow Deaton into the adjoining room, and in an almost-whisper, he says, "I knew I recognized her. Her mother, she was a witch. And I have a feeling – _a druid feeling_ – that your friend may have inherited some of her mother's traits. Reckless or excess practice of magic can destroy a witch's mind, which is likely what happened to dear Grace Elwyn."

Looks pass between the three of them, no one knowing what to say. Scott eventually asks, "So what should we do? Do we tell her?"

"That's up to you two. She seems to be pretty strong, emotionally speaking. I'd estimate that she could probably handle the information with relative ease. But you guys know her much better than I do."

"Nose goes!" Scott touches his finger tip to his nose at lightning speed, followed by a knowing Deaton, leaving Stiles in last place.

"What if I need you to show her your claws or something; you know – to prove that it's the truth?"

"… Fine. You're right, I guess. How are we going to do it?"

"I think the chess board worked pretty well last time."

 

* * *

 

_This isn't happening. Like, what?_

_Werewolves? Witches?_

_Real life isn't fucking_ Harry Potter. _This is madness – utter madness._

_I want to say it's all a joke. I want to, but unfortunately, I saw the claws and the red glowing irises with my own two eyes._

After a life-changing chat with Scott and Stiles in Stiles' bedroom – and a brief 'welcome back' encounter with the Sheriff – Alex's head is spinning. Thankfully, Stiles didn't protest when she said that she wanted to walk home alone. She needs time to think about this. Now, the conversation is all jumbled in her head, a whir of words and statements all blended together. There are a few among the flurry of nonsensical words that stick out in full clarity: _werewolves, witches, alphas, druids, emissaries, packs, banshees, hunters._

_Monsters._

_Monsters from terrifying campfire stories – the ones that make you afraid of going outside alone at night. Scott, an alpha werewolf. My own mother, a witch, for god's sake! But Stiles – Stiles isn't a monster. He's human, perfectly human, but he's with them. The boy who runs with wolves. Do I want to run with them too? Do I want to join their ranks – their pack? I've been offered the position wholeheartedly, but if I say no, I'm not sure if that means we can still be friends._

_Am I afraid? I wasn't afraid when Scott 'turned.' No, I hardly flinched. So what is it, then, exactly? What has me so very chilled to the bone? What has me so paralyzingly scared for my future?_

_Would Stiles hold my hand if I decided to run alongside him?_


	4. Black Light

Sitting atop the roof of her grandparents' house, Alex can imagine the stars in the night sky where those that have been obscured by light pollution should be. If she thinks about them hard enough, maybe she can forget.

_Forget. Forget for one fucking second, so you can let go of the breath you've been holding all weekend and inhale anew._

Behind her, Alex can hear the sound of her bedroom door being opened and shut. After a minute filled with the sounds of shuffling feet and slight hesitation, Alex is joined on the roof by Stiles, who lies down next to her, clearing his throat. She doesn't turn to him, nor does he turn to her. There is a solid five-minute block of silence between them before Alex starts.

"I've realized that it doesn't matter to me who or what you all are or are not. I don't care. You're all the same people in my eyes – the same people I once knew – except now, you've got extra baggage. You carry new demons. But, if were being honest, I have my own baggage now too. I may not have a title, and I may not have claws or glowing eyes, but I do carry my own demons inside of me – ones that I acquired in the time that I was away. So if you guys can accept me for who I am now, I can do the same. Always."

Stiles doesn't dare reply. Instead, as he lies beside her on the rooftop, he reaches out and takes her hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing gently. She squeezes back.

"Always."

After Stiles leaves (but not before placing a goodbye kiss on Alex's knuckles), Alex receives a text from Scott's number. _"Black light party friday night @ the loft. I'll give u the address @ lunch 2moro. Coming?"_

She replies, _"I'd love to. Count me in."_

 

* * *

 

Over the next week of school, Alex sits with the gang at lunch – and fits in surprisingly well. She's like having a second Stiles – a human that's only really good for humor, sarcasm, academics, and the occasional piece of input. They were all quite hesitant at first, but now they talk as openly about their supernatural lives as they did before she came along. She doesn't comment; she only absorbs what they say. More often than not, Stiles has to recount some long story to explain what the hell a Kanima is or who Derek Hale is.

When Friday comes along, Lydia and Allison invite Alex over after school to get ready for the party. After grabbing her favorite bandeau and high-waisted shorts, Alex is picked up by a cheerful Allison and is brought to Lydia's house. There, the girls fawn over her, claiming that they love her eyes – that she has such a perfect face for makeup. They paint her nails with some color that's guaranteed to glow under black light, far too excited about something that they've planned that they're keeping from her.

 

* * *

 

The music is loud, the lights are crazy, and the loft is full of people Alex doesn't recognize.

"Al!" Finally, amongst the crowd of faces, Alex recognizes a disgruntled Stiles running toward her. When he stops in front of her, he gives her an odd look. She's too caught up in the energy of the party to care. "You look...different." Alex smiles. Wordlessly, she takes his hand and starts guiding him to the dance floor. He follows, confused but not questioning her.

They join the mob of sweaty, neon-tinted bodies on the dance floor, grinding on each other to the beat. Neither would have expected the other to be a very good dancer, but they're both doing rather well. Slowly, they grow closer, Alex's hands linked behind Stiles' neck. Alex feels something strange – a foreign heat and tingling sensation in her whole body, heightening her senses. It's ecstasy. Looking into Stiles' dilated eyes, she recognizes that same feeling reflecting from within him.

All it takes for her is feeling Stiles' warm breath lingering on the skin of her neck. In that moment, she knows. She leans in to mumble in his ear, "Can you feel that?" He nods feverishly, and – as an assurance – grips her sides and grinds his denim-clad hips to hers. He's pointing out the obscene bulge in his pants. Alex bites her lip. She asks, "Where?"

 

* * *

 

On the way up to the roof, they hold hands, hurrying as if they have mere moments before this moment ends. When they burst through the door, it's all hands and skin as Alex rips Stiles' shirt over his head. He pauses, looking into her eyes, and she freezes as well. Taking her face in both hands, he leans in and kisses her with more passion than two teenagers should share.

After that blissful moment of passion, it's back to hands and skin as they simultaneously lie down on the cement ground. Stiles looms over her, and as they pant in unison, he says, "I've wanted you for so long." He kisses her again, with just as much passion as before. It brings a tear to Alex's eye. "So long, Al."

With her hands trailing all over his chest, back, and sides, Stiles grinds his hips to hers again, establishing a very promising rhythm. Quickly, Alex flips them over. She straddles his lap and immediately begins taking him apart. She starts by sucking on his neck, biting at his jawline, and nibbling on his ear. He shudders, and his hands instinctively move to grip her waist, his fingers sending shocks along Alex's side. She places a kiss at the edge of his jaw just beneath his ear, as she breathes hot air onto his neck.

Reaching into her back pocket, she pulls out a condom and tosses it on the ground next to them. When Stiles gives her a funny look, she says, "I've wanted you too. Now, where was I?" She drags her hand down his chest and his abdomen until it rests at the waistband of his jeans. He inhales sharply, and she smirks at him. With a little help, Alex removes the garment, running her hands up and down his thighs and grinning deviously. Stiles exhales a shaky breath, looking – _what, nervous? Him? Really?_ Alex kisses him soundly, distracting him when she moves her hand under the waistband of his boxers and takes him in hand. They're mid-kiss when Alex's hand finds his erection and begins stroking it slowly; Stiles' jaw falls agape and he moans/curses into her mouth, making her pulse with want. _Oh, fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. That face, those sounds – moans because of me, because of what I'm doing to him. Oh god._

"You have no idea what you're doing to me right now." His voice is hoarse and low. " _I_ have no idea what you're doing to me right now."

"I'm about to make it a whole lot worse."

"Oh, god yes."

She slinks down his body and lands between his legs, never taking her hand off of him. He stares at her with wide, hungry eyes as she stills her hand and brings the tip of his cock to her lips, the amusement never leaving her features. She teases the head with her tongue, taunting him for a bit with light touches. She slowly moves down and gives one big lick from the base to the tip, swirling her tongue around the head before sucking his length down as deeply as it can go.

She can feel him struggling to keep control of himself; he clenches his fists as he fights the urge to grab her by the hair and fuck her mouth relentlessly. Sensing his lack of control, Alex takes one of his hands and threads their fingers together. But after minutes of steady torture, she feels more confident, so she guides Stiles' hand to the back of her head. He looks at her like a deer in headlights, and she gives him the most reassuring look she can (because her mouth is obviously otherwise occupied). He hisses, finally giving in to the urge to guide Alex's head with his hand. He pushes her slowly farther and farther down his length, his head falling back as he groans and swallows, making obscene sounds.

He pulls her off of him with a disgruntled sigh, and just when Alex thinks he's exhausted, he heaves her up onto his lap and starts quickly ripping off her clothes, laying them on the ground beneath them to guard their skin from the rough pavement. When they're both naked, he's on her immediately. He kisses her passionately, flipping them again to be on top of her. He threads his fingers through hers on both sides, holding her hands down on the cement as he leans down to whisper in her ear, "You are so beautiful." He releases one of her hands in favor of moving his fingers to feel her wetness. With a question in his eyes, he looks to her, and she replies, “Please, Stiles. Just – please.”

"Please, what?" he asks. She whimpers, raising her hips to meet his. "You have to tell me what you want." He teases her entrance with his fingertips, making her shudder.

"Christ," she sighs, "I just – god, please... Please fuck me, Stiles. F-fuck -"

“Sorry, I didn't catch that -” he says as he rips open the condom and rolls it on. Alex groans in response, so frustrated that she's unable to produce a coherent reply. He positions himself at her entrance, but doesn't move. "I love seeing you come undone. I really do."

She smirks between heaving breaths. "Fuck me, Stiles."

And in one swift motion, he's inside of her, cutting off oxygen for both of them. The moan he makes should be illegal. “Oh, hell – Al...” He pauses momentarily to see that she's situated, but the pause doesn't last for very long. He starts with spaced out, deep thrusts. Eventually, he just starts slamming into her over and over, and at one point, he leans down to bite her neck hard and say, "You are just perfect, do you understand?" This, of all of their breathless exchanges, is what stands out most in her mind.

She pulls him back to search his eyes, but he just pulls her into a hard, sloppy kiss, before Alex has to break for air. “Fucking harder. I won't break.” She grips his ass and pulls him into her with quite a bit of force, just as he lifts her hips to readjust their position. The resulting moan from both parties signifies a success. Alex is being hit _right there,_ where she needs it most, and she's wrapped around him just right. "Stiles..." his name is in the form of a whimper as her orgasm washes over her, as quick and as damaging as a riptide. The feeling of this – of being enveloped and of being intimate – is what throws Stiles over the edge. He thrusts into her relentlessly, and when he comes, it's with Alex's name on his lips.

When they collapse to the ground, they kiss softly, and Alex whispers, "I really love you, you know. Always have."

He smiles. "And I love you."

"More than curly fries and pizza?"

"Let's not go that far."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this to the end - it's much appreciated! Please leave comments/kudos/whathaveyou to let me know how I'm doing!

**Author's Note:**

> I learned – in the process of writing this – that it's much easier to create flawed characters when they're reflecting from somewhere inside of me. Rather, when I have to write a character based on a friend, I feel like I tend to highlight the good I see in them. So, this story is actually very telling with regard to the way that I see this friend of mine. 
> 
> (I'm sorry if she's a Mary Sue. I tried, really, but I guess I'm not a very good writer if I cannot find faults in people I care about. That makes for less dynamic characters. Maybe that makes me a small-minded writer; but by the same token, maybe I make up for being small-minded by being big-hearted.)


End file.
